


Hair as Black as Night

by StupidGenius



Series: Tumblr AUs/prompts (Sterek) [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Curses, Happy Ending, Hurt Derek, I never thought of Stiles as Charming until now, I swear, Light Angst, Temporary Character Death, witches are always messing with Stiles' love life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, hair as black as night…’” he recites, remembering when his mother used to read him fairytales before bed.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>“They may be called fairytales, but they are nowhere near make-believe, my little Przemysław.” His mother told him, tucking the sheets under his chin. “And they don’t always end with laughter and smiles.”</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Mr. McCall says magic isn’t real.”</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>“That’s because Mr. McCall doesn’t have a spark. Not like we do.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“It’s can’t be…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair as Black as Night

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: “They say that Allison is the Disney princess, and Lydia is supposed to be Ariel, yet it is Derek that bites the poison apple. Apparently Prince Charming wears flannel.”

He’s just lying there.

Stiles thinks, for a second, that it’s a good thing Derek gave him a key last week, or no one would know until it was too late.

“Derek?” He calls, hands shaking.

Derek’s _not moving_.

“Derek!” He yells, running over to his – not his body, no, that’s what you call dead people and Derek’s not – “I – Deaton. You need Deaton.” He says aloud. It’s painfully silent in the loft, aside from Stiles’ harsh breathing and his heart pounding in his ears. Derek’s always been a quiet person, he made some noise when he was here. Little huffs when he read, the clink of a coffee mug against the granite counter.

He presses shaky fingers to Derek’s pulse point, and all the air leaves his lungs in a rush.

_There is no pulse._

There just isn’t. He thinks maybe he’s just trembling too much, and can’t feel it, but when he presses his ear to Derek’s chest, there’s _nothing_.

“No.” He whispers. “No, Derek, you – come on, man, you’re supposed to – I haven’t…” Derek’s paler than even he is, not a splash of color on his face. No pale green eyes staring back at him, no blood under his skin, nothing.

“CPR.” He mumbles. “That’s – that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone’s not breathing, right?” he tilts Derek’s head back, and he tries to force enough air into his _own_ lungs before attempting Derek’s, and he does chest compressions, but fuck, he doesn’t know how to do this. He never thought he’d need it, what with all his friends being werewolves. He heard somewhere that something’s supposed to crack, when you do this – or was it _not_ supposed to? It doesn’t matter anyway, Derek’s werewolf bones aren’t giving under Stiles’ weak human hands.

“Derek, please.” His voice cracks, and he gives up. His vision’s too blurry with tears anyway. “Please don’t leave me. You – I haven’t even – I love you, you can’t leave yet. _You don’t get to leave yet, Derek._ ” He sobs.

_Derek’s dead._

Oh god. He has to tell Cora. Fuck, _Cora_. How’s he going to tell her that her last living relative is dead, and he doesn’t even know how or why? How’s he supposed to explain this to the police when they come for the body? To the rest of the pack? He told Derek they were always gonna save each other, but he _failed_ , oh fuck, he can’t –

Stiles blinks the tears out of his eyes, gaze locked on the apple not two feet away from Derek’s hand. He hadn’t noticed it when he arrived – too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was wrong. But now…

He reaches over and picks it up, and something deep within him tells him it’s _wrong_. It shouldn’t _be here_ , it’s not _right_.

“‘Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, hair as black as night…’” he recites, remembering when his mother used to read him fairytales before bed.

_“They may be called fairytales, but they are nowhere near make-believe, my little Przemysław.” His mother told him, tucking the sheets under his chin. “And they don’t always end with laughter and smiles.”_

_“Mr. McCall says magic isn’t real.”_

_“That’s because Mr. McCall doesn’t have a spark. Not like we do.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead._

“It’s can’t be…” he croaks. But the apple is so red, unnaturally so, and there’s a bite mark in it that couldn’t have been left by anyone other than Derek (he’s never stared at Derek’s fucking teeth before, okay? Never).

If this is what he thinks it is – and he really hopes it is – then the only way Derek’s ever gonna wake up is with True Love’s Kiss. That thought sends fresh wave of hurt through him, but he ignores it, because this really isn’t about him.

He calls Lydia, because Lydia knows everything.

“Stiles, it’s too early for –”

“It’s 10 AM.” He snaps. “I need to know if Derek’s in love with anyone.”

“This is important, Lydia.”

“Nope.” She tells him. “No. You seriously can’t be this fucking dense, you’re almost as smart as me. I’m not helping you with this.”

“Lydia, I swear to god –”

She hangs up on him.

He lets out a frustrated scream and tugs at his hair.

Derek’s dying.

Derek’s dying, and the only way to save him is to figure out who is true love is and get them to kiss him before it really is too late.

“This isn’t gonna work.” He whimpers, sinking back down to his knees next to Derek’s cold, pale body. He’s going to have to call Deaton.

Stiles leans down, brushing the hair away from Derek’s forehead and smoothing a hand over his beard. He’s crying again, he knows, but it’s not like anyone’s watching. “If I never get the chance to…” he starts, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t remember this when you wake up.”

He kisses him.

Derek’s lips are still soft. they’re not warm, like Stiles always imagined they’d be, with werewolf body heat and all, but that makes sense, given the situation. He grabs a fist full of Derek’s shirt and squeezes his eyes shut, about to let go. But then –

Then Derek _kisses him bac_ k.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“True Love’s Kiss is the only way to break the spell.” Deaton confirms. “It was a strong on, and wouldn’t have just worn off on its own.”

“Really, Stiles?” Derek sighs, rolling his eyes. “Me saying ‘I’m in love with you’ wasn’t enough? We had to go ask Deaton?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure it was real. Could have been a trick that bitch witch was playing.” Stiles grumbles, glaring.

He can’t stay made for long though, not when Derek grabs his hand and pulls him close.

“This is real.” Derek assures. Stiles grins.

“Good. I’ve had enough of make-believe.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, does this make me your Prince Charming?”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I totally am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that episode of Buffy whet sher mom died? And there was no music and it made everything sadder and more shocking, somehow? Just, like, imagine the first bit of this fic like that. If that makes sense.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/). Come cry over Stiles with me.
> 
> Want me to write anything? [Send me a prompt](http://stupidgenius.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
